


Klaus' Adventures In The Land Of The Living!

by milesawayfromthevoid



Series: Family Counselling Is Recommended, But The Apocalypse Will Do In A Pinch [1]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Again, Also it goes mostly unspoken but the only cishet here is Luther, Also no incest I will not tolerate it, Emphasis on comfort baby yeehaw, Family Bonding, Folks I can't emphasise the enough Luther needs to wake the fuck up and be a good sibling, Gen, Gradual character growth for him, Hurt/Comfort, No Incest, Not Luther friendly, Trans Character, Trans Female Character, Trans Male Character, family stuff.
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-07
Updated: 2019-04-26
Packaged: 2019-11-13 11:28:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18030866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/milesawayfromthevoid/pseuds/milesawayfromthevoid
Summary: Klaus is up thirteen again, sober, and given the opportunity to fix things with his siblings. Not exactly how he pictured the apocalypse, but okay.AKA Klaus Convincing Himself That Familial Support Is A Decent Substitute For Drugs.AKA AKA Luther Sucks.





	1. The Aftermath; Or, Awkward Family Meetings Made Worse By Imprisonment

**Author's Note:**

> Basically this is gonna be a series of one-shots loosely connected concerning how Klaus relates to his siblings and how they all heal.

Klaus hated being thirteen again.

Oh, sure, it was nice when the alternative was twiddling his thumbs while pieces of the moon crashed into them, but now that he’s thirteen again he realizes how much he _despises_  being thirteen again. Not only is he still in the death throes of withdrawal, dizzy from the time travel and missing the tattoos he actually liked. Not only did he lose his adult body, which he worked really hard to get the way it was, black market hormones are not as cheap as recreational drugs. No, he _also_  temporarily forgot how he dealt with his powers sober for about five minutes. In the corner of his eyes while he was still in the theatre, he saw the ghosts of the Time Travelling Assassins Club, the civilians in the theatre, and the people caught in the blast already reaching for him, calling out to him, begging for answers or retribution or whatever salvation he couldn’t give them. Their faces morphed with fear and anguish, turning into demonic masks and nope, Klaus couldn’t deal with that right now, thank you, so he just focused on Diego’s hand in his and Ben’s hand on his shoulder. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut as the ball of light between them all became brighter and bigger and the world dissolved in a _whoosh_.

Then he was back in the academy, in the foyer. He and his siblings collapsed gracelessly on the carpet. Gone were the dead of tomorrow. In their place, the old usuals who used to haunt him turned their attention back to him, seemingly pulled out of their ghostly misery at the sight of seven kids falling from nowhere. Either that or they just realized their favourite Ouija board was back in town. With their cacophony of “Klaus”s (hadn’t they ever heard of “that’s my name, don’t wear it out”?) overwhelming the otherwise quiet room, he tried to focus on the living instead.

Groaning, he pulled himself up into a sitting position as slowly as he could without giving himself vertigo, waving them off with what would have been his “Goodbye” hand (the action lost some significance without the tattoo).  He turned to the others: Allison was rubbing her hand across her throat, seemingly afraid to speak out of fear that she wouldn’t be able to. Klaus could hear her beginning to whisper, then laughing out loud with relief when no negative side effects happened. Diego was pressing the heels of his palms against his eyes, looking as dizzy as Klaus felt. Luther must’ve knocked his head against the floor but grunted when Diego kicked his leg weakly, so they’re both accounted for. Vanya was coming to, looking around confusedly but without any of the menace of the White Violin. She mouthed, “what the --” but seemed to relax a little, even if the confusion only grew, as Klaus gave her a wave. Five was lying down and looked about a second away from either passing out or throwing up but gave a weak thumbs up when Klaus turned to him. Finally, behind him, he could hear Ben hiss as he sat up. Klaus looked at him, noticing how he was rubbing his shoulder in pain. Sober him, he’ll give himself credit for one thing, was good at getting the old cogs a-turning. He reached out to his brother, poking his non-injured arm.

“Fuck, Klaus, quit it, I think I landed on my shoulder blades --” Ben started, then his eyes widened at the same time as Klaus’. With shaking hands, Klaus took Ben’s non-injured wrist and pressed his fingers against the vein right as Ben moved his other hand to his neck.

The steady thrum of a pulse pounded against Klaus’ fingers and he felt a grin split his face as tears filled Ben’s eyes.

“I’m _alive_ ,” Ben said, awe filling his voice. Diego, Allison and Five had all sat up, frozen, and watched their youngest brother with rapt attention, somewhere between disbelieving and relief. Vanya had crawled over, hovering as if she wasn’t sure whether to believe it. Diego and Allison roused Luther once they seemed to register that yes, that was Ben in front of them.

“You’re alive!” Klaus shouted, pulling him into a hug. He waved at the others, to come join. Catching Vanya still hovering unsurely out of the corner of his eyes, he flailed out an arm and yanked her into the hug. A millisecond later, Five jumped in, then the eldest three seemed to get their head in the game and got in the group hug, Diego fiercely and tightly, Allison gently and comfortingly, Luther hesitantly and honestly disappointingly.

Ben looked overwhelmed in the middle of all this physical contact, but he kept reaching out his arms and grabbing for his siblings. Klaus, in the middle, was rubbing his hands in circles on his back, simultaneously trying to comfort and convince himself that, yes, this wasn't the most wholesome trip of his life, his brother and bestie was alive again.

He pulled away a little, though, letting his siblings make up all their lost time with Ben. He caught one of Ben's hands, shooting out to reach for him panicked, and squeezed it comfortingly. He smiled at Ben through both their tears.

  


Later, they moved to Ben's room for a family meeting. It was the early hours of the morning, which was the only time their father got any sleep, and it only took slight prodding from Klaus to make the others realize that hey, maybe Ben would like to revisit his room for the first time in years.

Five had taken Luther’s usual spot as leading the meeting, with Luther hanging back. The fact that it was because he knew most about time travel was a bonus to the fact that no one really trusted Luther to lead right now. Even Klaus, Diego and Allison felt sick with guilt at leaving Vanya in the vault, even if they didn’t directly put her there. They all, even Five and Ben, put themselves between their oldest and youngest siblings in solidarity with Vanya. Vanya’s gaze would still flicker over to Luther every so often, wary, and she’d curl further into Allison’s side whenever he moved. Allison, thank _fuck_ , was finally seeing Luther for the creepy weirdo he was and kept looking at him with this distrusting expression every time Vanya moved closer to her.

Ben, for his part, was trying to subtly do the same for Klaus. He and Diego sat between Klaus and Luther. Ben filled Diego in on what happened between Klaus and Luther when Klaus couldn’t summon their father, and both decided that they didn’t trusted Luther after the nightclub and the assault he’d experienced earlier, not even counting all the horseshit that happened to Vanya.

It was cute that they thought they were being subtle; sober Klaus was a lot more perceptive than any of them were giving him credit for and his family’s clearly discreet conversations were a lot more interesting than the ghosts begging his name over and over again. Honestly, if he wasn’t intent on not drawing any more attention to him, he’d demand a medal. He also got the feeling a little of it was guilt on Ben's part, that he had convinced Klaus to go after Luther that night even after being beat up by him, and ended up dying in a rave surrounded by drugs he was resolutely not taking. ( _Seriously_ , he thought as the adrenaline faded and withdrawal made itself known. _A medal. Maybe an award in his name while the academy is at it. Chop chop._ ) Klaus felt the guilt was a _little_ unwarranted because regardless of what happened, he still saved Luther's ass from getting kicked, but whatever. Ben's had a tough afterlife and feels protective of the only sibling he could talk to, hey, who is Klaus to make a stink about it?

Besides, the attention wasn’t on him, it was on Vanya and the apocalypse and, by consequence, their thirteen year old selves. Vanya remembered everything and broke down again, apologizing endlessly amidst sobs. She said she remembered what she did to the others, remembered the feelings of hatred and resentment and sheer fucking _loneliness_ bubbling to the surface after hours in the vault. She knew that it was her fault and she was sorry, and she would do anything to make things right.

There was a tense sort of quiet, and then Allison spoke.

“It’s on all of us,” she said. Her voice was raspy, but more out of disuse than trauma, like she slept for a few days instead of having her throat slashed. (Klaus never had his throat cut but he’d had his stomach pumped a few times and knew there was, in fact, a difference between medical-grade hurt and not speaking.) “Vanya, what you did...that was from years of _us_ going along with and -- and building from, what dad did. I’m so sorry for leaving you out and excluding you, and then just _leaving you_ in the vault and… Look, I don’t think we can start over clean but...maybe we can _all_ make things right.”

Everyone nodded in agreement. Klaus reached out and took her hand.

“I’m sorry,” Klaus started. “Out of all of us, I should’ve done something with the vault, and before then, too.”

“What we did was awful. We could have included you, or defended you, and we didn’t,” Ben said.

“If you’ll let us,” Diego said, “we’ll do things better this time.”

All eyes were on Luther, who bit his lip and looked at his hands before speaking. “I...Vanya, I’m so sorry, I was just so angry and…” Allison cut him off with a look over Vanya’s head. “I just...I’m sorry.”

“We’ve been given an opportunity to treat our sister better then we did all those years ago and, quite frankly recently,” Five said, managing to make an apology sound heartfelt and pragmatic at the same time. “Vanya, can we try to prove that we want to do things better and make things right?”

“Promise?” Vanya’s voice was quiet, searching all of their eyes for the smallest lie, except Luther, who she couldn’t quite look at right now. When they all met her gaze steadily, Vanya sniffed, nodding. “Yeah, I’d…” she swiped her tearful eyes. “I’d like that. But that doesn’t change what _I_ did, and I'm still sorry about everything, I hurt you all so much,” she turned to Allison. “Allison, I--I'm so sorry, Allison, I didn't--I could have killed you, and I'm so, so sorry--”

“Vanya, it's--” Allison's smile was watery. “I forgive you.”

Vanya's breath hitched and she hugged Allison again, burying her face into her shoulder as sobs shook her body. Allison's eyes welled up, too, and she let them fall as she rested her chin on Vanya's head.

And in that moment, for the first time that Klaus can ever remember, the tension in the room eased while all of them were in it. Their baggage wasn’t forgotten but it was...checked. They were staring at their demons head on and were forming a game plan. The Hargreeves family trauma is on its way out, thank you very much.

“Ok, so next order of business, we destroy the vault,” Five said.

“Uh...” Luther started, and everyone’s gaze snapped towards him.

And with one syllable, the Hargreeves family trauma resurfaced. Thank you, Luther, you reliable asshole, the peace was nice while it lasted.

“ _UH_ ?” Diego demanded next.“What do you _MEAN_ , ‘uh’?!”

“Fuck no, Luther,” Ben said firmly as he fluidly stood in front Vanya. Klaus forgot how protective he was of the others when it was just his junkie ass he was watching over. Klaus raised his own arms to defend Vanya and to pull Ben back if Luther tried anything.

“You promised--!” Vanya looked ready to hyperventilate or bolt.

“Yeah, no ‘uh’s, we’re destroying it and that’s final,” Allison said, pulling a panicking Vanya in closer.

“But like...what if there is another, you know…” Luther waved his hands around.

“There won’t _be_ another ‘you know,’” Five pitched his voice down to mimic Luther’s, “if we don’t act like assholes. And part of not acting like assholes is tearing down a weapon used against our _s_ _ister._ ”

Luther opened up his mouth to speak again and Klaus stood up, walking straight towards him. He was still getting over the stiff neck and freezing limbs of withdrawal and Luther’s dumb, insensitive justifications for what he did really weren’t helping this budding headache Klaus had cooking. He had enough for one night. He could feel Ben move to stop him but didn’t stop until he was directly in front of Number One.

“Luther,” he said, calmly. “Unless you have been locked up in a small, cramped, dark space, all alone, for _days_ as a literal _child_ , you have no vote in this election -- and _no_ , the moon doesn’t count, before you say it. In fact, _you_ get a negative vote on this issue, because you did exactly what dear old dad did and made things for Vanya and the _planet_ so much worse. This isn’t up for debate. We’re tearing that shit down, and if you’re not with us on this, then you’re not with us.”

Luther’s jaw twitched. From the corner of his eye Klaus saw Diego and Ben inch forward, but Klaus stood his ground till Luther dropped his head in defeat.

“You’re right,” he admitted. “I’m sorry, Vanya, guys, you’re right. I wasn’t thinking.”

“Clearly.” Diego muttered, relaxing somewhat.

Klaus nodded decisively, turning back to his seat on the bed. “Okay, _tres bien_! So now that we’re all in agreement, how do we wreck that shop without Reggie knowing? Or are we not gonna care?”

“No, we’ll have to be discreet,” Five said, pacing. “If dad found out, there’s no guarantee he wouldn’t up the stakes. He can’t know that Vanya knows about her powers. We’ll have to take her training into our own hands, and sabotage the vault in the off chance that he finds out. Make an escape route, something Vanya can easily use to get out and get back to us. Besides, if we’re still considering the apocalypse, having as few people know that we know the future is key, unless someone wants to pretend they have  clairvoyance as a power now.”

“Why can’t you just jump her out?” Diego asked. “Easiest way in and out.”

“That is on the table,” Five said, glancing at Vanya reassuringly. “But we have to take into consideration that dad hid a lot from us. There’s a chance he might anticipate that and work around it, keep me away from the mansion on a mission, for instance. We’re going to protect you, Vanya, but we need to know that you have a way out no matter what happens.”

Vanya nodded appreciatively. Klaus got the feeling that, with everything that’s happened, giving Vanya power over her situation and proving that she was beyond an ordinary citizen who needed saving was also on Five’s mind. Then again, who knew how that little psycho’s brain worked anymore?

Five stood still, rubbing his chin in thought. “The lock’ll be easy enough to deal with.” He had a calculating look in his eyes. “I’ve worked with vaults before. I’ll jump down and look at the mechanism. From then, it's only a matter of disabling the cameras and bringing the right tools down.” He caught the questioning looks of his siblings. “Piece of cake, basically.”

“But if we do that, make a way out, what’s next?” Ben asked. “How do we stop him from knowing that she escaped, prevent him from doing something worse next time?”

Klaus noticed a face out the door, burnt to a crisp, mouthing his name over and over again. Oh, lightbulb. “What if we laid it all out but like…” Klaus waved his hands around, faltering as the face outside picked up volume. _Fuck_  but he wanted a drink right now. “Sneakily, you know? Like, ‘hey dad, good news, the ghosts have moved beyond shrieking my name in agony, wicked right, also hey what’s with the soundproof vault in the basement?’ You know, make _him_ say it?”

“I don’t know, Klaus, that might open up more doors,” Allison said. She bit her lip in thought, and Klaus remembered her writing out in the bowling alley how she rumoured Vanya into thinking she had no powers. Klaus could tell it was on her mind, too. “It’s a good start though.”

“Maybe, right now,” Vanya cut in, “we should focus more on training? I can...I just want to know that the vault is escapable, that you guys will have my back and get me out if I’m there again. But if Five can sabotage it, and if you guys will stand by my side, then training is the more pressing issue. I need to figure out a way to control my powers, I know next to nothing about them.”

“We’ll make a schedule based off who isn’t being observed by dad,” Ben said. “Maybe if we work out of our rooms, or the courtyard --”

“That won’t work, dad has surveillance tapes all around the mansion,” Allison pointed out.

“Of course he did,” Diego snorted.

“I saw a few of them,” Allison continued. “There are so few blind spots, none big enough to safely test her powers.”  

“Fine,” Ben said. “Then we’ll sneak out, we always used to. We’ll find an abandoned building somewhere and take turns training her. If dad or Pogo really get on our case about it, we’ll say we’re training each other and we asked her to time us. Or we could just say we’re bonding and doing that thing he once told us about being stronger together.”

Five looked like he was about to say something but was interrupted by a creak from upstairs.

“So about those security tapes…” Klaus whispered. “How would dad react if we dropped in the entrance from the ceiling and all snuck up to Ben’s room for a three AM chat?”

“On it,” Five said, jumping out.

“He used to check on us once he was up, let’s get back to our own rooms.” Diego said. He opened the door a crack, peered out, then tiptoed away, followed by Luther. Klaus heard a “watch it” hissed from the hallway and rolled his eyes.

Allison seemed to sense that Vanya didn’t want to be left alone right away, so she kept holding her hand as she rose to her feet. “Vanya, you can bunk with me,” Allison said. Vanya nodded, smiling slightly, and they left together.

Klaus stretched. “Welp, that was a _really_ weird night, even by my standards. But hey, you got your life back! Yay!”

Ben huffed out a laugh. “And all it took was the end of the world, who knew resurrection was so easy?”

“Tell me about it!” Klaus grinned, then turned serious. “How are you handling this, by the way?”

“I’m good. It's a lot to take in but I'm good. Just...do you mind sticking around? I'm…” He faltered. “I’m not really tired, and I kinda don’t wanna be alone right now.”

“Sure, Ben,” Klaus said. He laid back down, his migraine ebbing with the adrenaline and stress leaving his system. Ben chose one of his old favourite novels before he laid down beside him, and for the first time since he got sober he felt like things could be ok again. Listening to his brother, for the first time in over a decade, turning the pages of a book on his own, making little commentaries every so often, and even just clearing his throat and sniffles, Klaus felt like things could be repaired.

And the apocalypse and near death by sister aside, he was glad he was sober enough to remember tonight.


	2. Less A Temple, More A Haunted House. And Really, Who Wants To Take Care Of Those?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Diego "My Body Is A Temple" vs Klaus "But Weakness Feels So Good": fight!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I intended this to be much smaller but I couldn't stop writing.  
> Lotta distrust in this chapter. TW: Discussions of drug abuse, mostly from the perspective of a guy who thinks his brother is relapsing. Also Tw mentions of transphobia, vis-a-vis Reggie witholding hormones as a method of abuse  
> Also, I want to stress this for any cis readers out there: Klaus is taking drugs because that's, in his original timeline eyes anyway, the best way to get rid of the ghosts and not suffer 24/7. In this canon, he uses black market hormones because its easiest for him. This is not an endorsement to use black market T, and hormone treatment is not a gateway to ecstasy and the like. This is extraordinarily Klaus specific.

Klaus’ body was going through First Puberty again, which. No, thank you but no. Say what you will about getting old but Klaus  _missed_ it. He missed his facial hair and deeper voice and being able to wear more than the same uniform day-in day-out. His teenage years, the first time, were mostly a write-off for him, awkward and honestly mostly a blur. He was slower to catch on about his gender than Diego, Allison, Five, and Vanya, who seemed to know while they were still kids. And unlike them and Ben, he was never able to convince Reginald that he was not, in fact, cis. It was probably his skirts, looking back on it. Or the fact that he was very open about also being gay, unlike the others who were either closeted or figuring themselves out. In any case, the others were able to get hormones and present how they wanted because Reginald didn’t want any questions that weren't "Dr Professor Hargreeves, won't you please give us more vagaries about your mission statement while also avoiding how bad a father you were?" Besides, by this point they were still all confined to the house. Hormones and name changes started a full year before they went public. Even if it did help the others, they all knew the hormones weren't for the kids comfort: they were to keep them quiet and make them look "normal." Klaus, meanwhile, was privately given an ultimatum: “either pick one or the other, Number Four.”

Well, Klaus was never really good at ultimatums. It took him a few days of research but he managed to get enough word off the street about who to see if you’re a trans kid looking for some of the good body altering shit. After some brainstorming with Mom, a trip to the pawn shop with a golden shot glass, and poking down some shady alleys, he had a new name and a paper bag full of syringes and a dime bag of weed. (“Half off, kid,” the dealer said slapping him on the shoulder. “I have a rough time selling those T shots, anyway.” He figured he’d take it anyway, maybe sell it later for more cash, but then his second mausoleum trip happened before he finished his shots and...well, turns out weed helped.)

Suck it, Reginald: greatest disappointment or not, Klaus was a resourceful bastard.

Anyway, he usually snuck out twice yearly, pawning enough of dad’s shit to pay for twelve bi-monthly shots. Once he got famous and he’d stolen enough shit to get The Look™ from Pogo, he moved on to selling autographs and photos with fans. He learnt the ins and outs of the city before he was fifteen, and managed to mould his body the way he wanted it without any surgery. In spite of everything, Klaus was proud of that. In a house where everything else was monitored and controlled by dear papa, Klaus had regained control of his own body.  

Looking back on it, though, it was a shame he also learnt about the harder, recreational shit in the process. What control he got over his body he also lost through drugs and ghosts. If he wasn’t kicked out of the afterlife a few times by now, he’d say it was a miracle he was still standing with how many chemicals were stewing in his teenage body at the time. He took pride in transitioning so sneakily against the watchful monacle of his dad. That was kinda erased by the guilt, fear, and shame he felt about knowing how much booze and amphetamines he could mix before OD’ing.

This time around, he was going to do things better. He’d been sober for four months, now, longer than he’d been since he was a teenager. He took pride in that. He knew that Ben noticed: there was a quiet pride whenever Klaus moved away from the bar in the living room in his eyes, or when Klaus came back from a walk and didn’t look like he was hiding pills in his socks. He didn’t want to lose that. Klaus had spent so long letting his brother down, letting all of them down (except his dad, who Klaus couldn’t give a shit what he thought of him anymore) and now, with his second chance, he wanted to do better.

He needed those hormones, though, it was non-negotiable. Being thirteen again already sucked ass. The ghosts were getting worse now that he was sober, the oppressive thumb their dad had them all under was suffocating him, his body was starting to change in the bad ways again and he didn’t even have a good buzz to get himself through the day. He wanted some semblance of control again, and opted for the one thing he could change without disappointing his siblings.

This time, he took his time surveying his options. First, he went to Mom, asked outright if they could work on hormone therapy at the next check-up. Mom’s smile faltered a little at that request, then turned a little sad. Nuts.

“Klaus, sweetie, you’d know I’d love to, but your father advised against it for you,” she said. Klaus didn’t miss the way she glanced over his shoulder, but didn’t bother turning back. Well, if it was the old man, he wasn’t biting. Besides, there was an old woman staring at the back of his head intently from that corner who was missing half her ribcage and he just didn’t have the energy to look back. Instead, he just nodded at mom understandingly, plastering on a winning smile.

Next stop was the infirmary itself. He jimmied the lock on the refrigerator for their shots, but paused when he saw the vials. A set for each of his siblings, minus Luther, labelled neatly for the next six months. Every dosage clearly stamped out, unique to each of them, no more or less than exactly what they needed. Klaus sat back on his heels with a sigh, looking them over. He wouldn’t put it past his dad to take it out on all of them if Klaus swiped one. No shots for awhile, setting everyone back, until whoever jimmied the lock confessed. Oh, he’d know that it was Klaus -- old geezer for _sure_ had cameras up here, according to Allison -- but he’d want to let the paranoia sink in and drive a wedge between the siblings. And for the others, it was just as necessary. For all his speeches about teamwork, isolation was Reggie’s favourite way to control his kids.

If this was two decades ago, Klaus would probably not give a shit and swiped whoever he was beefing with at the moment, but sobriety and growing up did a funny thing to your empathy. It didn't even matter that his siblings would understand, or that his siblings had talked about maybe transitioning on their own terms in this timeline. He wasn't going to make decisions for them. So he closed the fridge and replaced the lock, brushing himself off and considering his options.

Briefly, asking Allison to rumour their dad came to mind but he didn't feel good about it. She was trying really hard to avoid using it, in training especially. Klaus could tell she was feeling guilty about everything she gained from it and was trying to keep it for emergencies only. He was selfish, sure, but he wasn't feeling super hyped to drag his sister back into using a power she grew to hate, especially when she was trying so hard not to.

He remembers one night, after a mission gone a little wrong. Allison had hesitated to use her rumours, preferring hand-to-hand combat. It was only until Klaus had a gun trained on him that she shouted, “I heard a rumour that you kicked your gun to me!”

When he asked her about it later. He could tell she felt guilty about the close call and assured her that, yes, he was fine, and that he was just checking in on if she was doing okay. Shaking at the close call, at the end of the mission, she told him, “I spent so long thinking it was right of me to use. That anyone else would do the same thing. Then I thought that if I used it again, that the wrong people would get hurt. I need to work out the best way to use it, at least if we're still doing missions with guns.”

Now, personally, grown-up Allison was the only person he'd trust with Allison's powers. But he knew what it was like to not want to use your powers. The memory of the look in her eyes as she told him this stopped him from knocking at her door. Instead, he turned back to his own room.

 

* * *

 

 

So, here he was, kneeling beside his bookcase, staring down a wad of cash in a hollowed out book on mountain climbing, struggling to remember how much his dealer used to charge him. He wanted to take as exact change as possible, still not trusting himself to fall back into old habits even further than he already was. _Take away my options,_ Klaus thought.

As he was counting out the twenties, he heard his door creak open.

“Hey, have you seen Mom anywhere?” Diego’s voice came from behind him and _shit shit shit_ Klaus _knew_ how bad this looked. Without thinking, he slammed the book closed and shoved it under the bed, then pushed the cash in his sleeve as quickly as he could.

He turned around as casually as he could manage. _Fuck_ , too late though apparently, as he could see suspicion in Diego’s eyes. He felt stuck; on the one hand, he wasn’t going out to get the drugs that’ll really fuck him up, but at the same time, he didn’t think Diego would buy that he would be able to waltz up to his old dealers, ask for a very specific type of drug and not be tempted to get any of the fun stuff (and honestly Klaus didn’t even trust himself, so no hard feelings). Well, shots are off today’s grocery list, but it’s probably not too late to salvage the situation.

“Nope!” Klaus said, rising to his feet. “Not since this morning. I’ve been here, cleaning up under my bed till now. But hey! Let’s go look for her.”

Diego nodded, and Klaus thought he was home free until he caught his arm as Klaus was about to pass him. Diego searched his eyes for red or enlarged pupils or something. While Klaus managed to hold his gaze, the frown on his older brother’s forehead didn’t lessen. In fact, it only deepened as he steered him away from the door, sat him down in his desk chair, and then started looking under his bed.

“What was it this time, Klaus?” he asked, and wow, somehow the resigned disappointment in Diego’s voice was worse than all the speeches and anger. Klaus felt himself deflate.

“There’s not -- I’m not taking anything, I haven’t since--”

“Yeah, forgive me for not believing you.” He pulled out the book, dumping out the cash on the floor. Oh, _phenomenal_ , this was actually happening. “Is the method of hiding cash supposed to convince me you’re clean? Is a piggy bank too fancy for you now?” He took another sweep under his bed, pulling out an old stuffed unicorn that was torn apart at the seams. He looked inside it quickly, tension relieved somewhat by the fact that only stuffing filled it but still not actually relaxed in the slightest. “Do you realize how this looks or did you think I was _Luther_ for a second?”

“Diego, I swear--”

“We want you to be clean, Klaus. You were doing so _well_ , I don’t understand how you co-could--!” Diego threw his hands up in frustration. “It’s been four months, doesn’t that mean _anything_ to you?”

“Okay, Diego, listen to me,” Klaus stood up in front of him. He pulled the twenties from his sleeve, watching as Diego folded his arms. _Ok, yikes, painful convo ahoy._ “I was...okay, I was going out, you’re right on that, but I was going out to get hormones!”

Diego stared at him for a good moment, expression inscrutable. Then he turned and started to leave. “That’s it, I’m getting Ben.”

“Diego!”

“No, you’ll get to look your brother -- the one who put up the _most_ with your junkie horseshit while he was _dead_ \-- look him in the eyes and tell him that you’re getting _‘hormones’_ while the rest of us can get them from Mom.”

“Mom won’t give me them, ‘cause dad won’t let her! I already asked this time!”

Diego flipped him off from the hallway.

“Fine! I’ll prove it!” Klaus shouted, opening the window. Damn, he forgot that he hadn’t oiled the hinges till he was fourteen and more used to sneaking out. It took a couple moments just to crack it open.

Maybe that's how shit went even more sideways than before. Before he could swing his legs out the fire escape, he felt himself get yanked back by the shoulder. Diego stood in between him and the window, arms spread out. “No, Klaus, you've come so far, it's not worth it! I'm not going to let you just throw your progress away!”

“I told you, it’s hormones!”

“Oh, bullshit, like it’s actually _hormones_. What, do you just walk up to a dealer and say, ‘hey, I need a couple of vials of testosterone?’”

“I get them directly in syringes, actually,” Klaus corrected. “Well, I mean, the first time I did, I don’t think they trusted me enough to measure out my own dosage.”

Diego looked taken aback. “Fuck off,” he said, but sounded much less certain than before.

“Come with me, I’ll prove it to you!”

“No, fuck _off_ , you can’t be telling the truth because that me-- that means yo-you,” he gave a near hysterical laugh. “Are you actually telling me that you took _black market hormones_ all these years because dad wouldn’t give you pharmacy grade shit?!”

“Uh, yeah,” Klaus said. “Are you surprised? I mean it’s the old man we’re talking about here, he’s kinda a stubborn prick and for all his weird Big Brother habits, he wasn't the most observant parent on the planet with me.”

Diego looked like he was about to have an aneurysm.

“Klaus,” he said. His voice was tight. “Do you have _any_ idea how dangerous that is?”

Oh, this was rich. Diego swoops in to lecture Klaus on what he's known about for over two decades. “I know what I’m doing!” Klaus protested, rolling his eyes. “It’s not like heroine or E or whatever, it’s just _T_. I know who to trust, what to take, how to take it--”

“If it’s black market, there isn’t any guarantee that it won’t fuck you up!” Diego said sharply. “I've seen this shit before, man! What if you get a fre-freak who wanted to pois-poi-poison you? Or ju-just gave you a str-stronger dose?! Fucks sake, Klaus, you could have _di-died_ , or destroyed your body _permanently_! Why didn’t you tell us that dad wasn’t giving you hormones?! We could’ve done something!”

“I don’t know!” Klaus cried out, going on the defensive. This was going so bad, so fast, and he wished he was anywhere else but here. “I was doing what I had to, I didn’t want to lose control of this, too! I don’t want to lose this part of me! I either had to change how I am as a person or be the only person left behind, and I found a way to get both!”

“‘ _How you are_ ,’ what are you--”

“Yeah, I'm _gay_ , Diego, and that makes dad think I can't be trans! He never did realize that you like guys, or that Allison likes girls! Ben, Five and Vanya were in the closet _forever_! Meanwhile here I am, flamboyant as all get out and distinctly ‘unmanly,’ so if any of us could pass as cis in his eyes -- Luther notwithstanding -- it's me. I don't blame you guys, but that's how the chips fell for me!”

Diego opened his mouth, then shut it. “I thought he'd...I don't know. I never realized you went out and got them from…” He waved out the window, then said, decisively, “Well, it doesn't matter. I'm gonna talk to Allison, she'll rumour him and you can stop getting them from street dealers.”

“I don't want that, though,” Klaus blurted out. “She clearly didn't want to use it before, I'm not going to be the one who makes her use it again. Nuh-uh, no dice.”

Diego got that look in his eyes. The one where he was figuring out just how to throw his knives to disarm a baddie most efficiently, or when he picked up a clue and suddenly everything fell into place. Klaus recognized it and wasn't sure whether to feel reassured or concerned.

“Give us two days.” He finally said. “Two days. You can train Vanya, she'll keep you away from your dealers. We'll get you your hormones, okay? That's a promise.” Diego held out his hand.

Klaus sighed, then took it. “Fine.”

“Good.” Diego pulled him into a hug. “I thought we made it clear the first time, but in case it wasn't, you're not alone in this anymore. None of us are.”

 

* * *

 

 

For the next two days, Klaus was excused from his usual training, somehow, and took up training Vanya on the downlow. He enjoyed their training sessions, even if there wasn't a lot he could teach her in terms of manifesting her abilities. The others, especially Ben, had that under wraps. Controlling it was also something the others were better at teaching. Vanya's powers flared up with her emotions, while Klaus’ were just sort of a constant.

But whenever they trained together, they found new ways to use their abilities. Out of all of them, they were the two with the most to learn (although Klaus realized with a bit of guilt that Vanya didn't have the option to numb herself, not like he did). Anyway, working together, they learnt new fascinating things about themselves. This time, they learnt that Vanya could apparently whistle, and somehow that could levitate water and manipulate it to less sharp shapes. Klaus could levitate _himself_! They managed to work on it for so late that they would only jump back to the mansion for meals before being shepherded back out by one of the other five. They would stay out late, practicing the levitating whistle on a cup of water in a doughnut shop. They’d end up sneaking back into Klaus’ room past midnight through the fire escape. Since they got back, Vanya’s concrete closet of a room was basically abandoned in favour of bunking with any of her siblings between Two and Six.  

By the end of the two days, just after they had brought Diego and Allison up to speed on Vanya’s progress, Ben pulled Klaus aside.

“So.” Ben started. “I hear that Diego found out about the T.”

Klaus nodded. “You know, I just realized that if he brought you in, you would probably have backed me up and saved us a helluva painful convo.”

“So why’d you jump out the window?”

“Panic.”

“Mm-hm.” Ben pressed his lips together. “Klaus, we’re proud of you for coming this far. That’s why Diego is right, you should’ve come to us. I’m glad you did, because I do not trust Chad as far as I can throw him. And yes, I’m including the distance the Horror can manage, too. Who gives a twelve year old weed ‘half-off?’”

“Yeah, yeah, teamwork and all that mushy stuff,” Klaus stretched, waving his index finger in a circle. “Hey, did you hear I could levitate now?”

“Very cool! But stay on task here, Klaus, ’cause ‘teamwork and all that mushy stuff’ managed to convince dad to get you a prescription.”

Klaus froze in surprise. “Pardon?”

“We all boycotted our trainings,” Ben said, shrugging casually. “We said we knew that he singled _you_ out in particular, gave the reasons why it was bullshit that he did. When he insisted on not budging we said, ‘sure, fine, but one for all and all for one.’” He must have caught Klaus’ eyes watering, because he squeezed his shoulder. “C’mon, you really think we’d let you put yourself so close to temptation again? Look, it’s...It’s technically for blockers right now, but it’s more in line with your blood levels and it’s definitely cleaner than what Chad was selling.”

Klaus wiped his eyes, then went to hug Ben. “Well, colour me impressed. Thanks, guys.”

He could hear the smile in Ben’s voice when he said, “Anytime, bro.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually had an idea for this chapter when I was watching ep 5, positively fucking fuming because Patch and Dave got fridged for no other reason except that the writers couldn't think of a good reason to have Diego and Klaus bond. Immediately after Diego said he treats his body like a temple and Klaus said fuck that, I thought, hey. What if I made them both trans? Because, minus the drugs, how they both treat their body and why they do it is kinda a thing for me in particular. And then I thought, fuck it, I can make them all trans. (Minus Luther) I only realized as I was writing the interaction that Diego would probs have the most distrust for black market drugs, being a cop and a guy who "treats his body like a temple."  
> Anyway, some notes on trans stuff. I'm very firmly in the camp of hormones/no hormones dysphoria/no dysphoria, whatever you're feeling, if you're trans you're trans, but I wanted to explore how Hargreeves would view 6/7 of his kids being trans. Personally, I feel like Hargreeves would jump on this opportunity to lord something over his kids for the sake of The Mission and, with how he viewed Klaus as a disappointment, would sorta keep this out of his reach. I also think that how they were raised would affect how the siblings want to present their gender, and hormones were sorta enforced as the Next Step. Idk if I'll continue that thread but I do want to emphasize that this very cis-sexist line of thinking will probs harm how the kids see themselves. Klaus mostly departed from this line of thinking but he definitely enjoys his body and misses the way it was.  
> I also did want to explore how Klaus would view self-control now that he's sober, and how much he trusts himself. He's pretty selfish and willing to put the blame of his actions on someone else in the show, and I wanna say that he's working on it even if he's not 100% all the time. He's already used to doing shit on his own, but now it's less "they'll stop me" and more "I want to be better but they won't get it." He'll have to grow out of this line of thinking if he really wants to get better, though.


	3. Klaus, Vanya, and the Ruggedly Handsome Violin; Or, Teenage Rebellion In Major Key

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part of a greater series where Klaus' siblings accidentally [or perchance not] help him stay sober. Might split it off into a new work, but for now, here's the first finished chapter. Please welcome to the stage, Vanya and her complex emotions vis-a-vis the violin her father used to control her abilities!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, with careful consideration, I think I might ease up on Luther. I think, after he pulls his head out of that Numbers System "I'm Dad's Fave" bs, he can probs be good. I'll have him gradually grow as a character in this series, and maybe future works

Klaus is about a month sober, a month into the past and thirty years exhausted from these stupid ghosts. 

Sobriety is hard and Klaus hates having to go through it. He knows that it might be worthwhile, maybe, somewhere far in the future where his cravings have dissipated into the ether, but unfortunately Future Klaus doesn’t have to deal with what Present Klaus is going through. Present Klaus, on top of the voices and the chills and the smells and all the joys that come with his powers, now has to deal with the knowledge of what he’s missing. And yeah, being sober is objectively the better option when it comes to familial interactions, but now he’s restless all the time. It’s a bad look for him. 

So he’s taken to walking around the house when the cravings become a little too salient for his liking. He’ll pace the hallways, stay away from doors and the windows with fire escapes. He always hopes pass his siblings doing something interesting enough to distract him, or work his way up to the attic and go through all the dusty junk his father keeps stored up there that’s too boring to be displayed but too shady to just get rid of. 

He knows, in the back of his head, that there’s a crumpled up bunch of tens in his pocket that he should probably leave in his room, but he’s afraid that if he goes back to his room he’ll just book it out of the fire escape. So, he’s in walking limbo right now. This particular stroll inside the premises, however, soon distracts him from the cash. He passes by Vanya’s open door to see her looking like she’s going to fisticuff her violin case. Count Klaus as intrigued, then.

She acknowledges his entrance with a hum but doesn’t look up, too busy drumming her fingers on her knees, then closing them into a tight fist, then repeating the cycle. There’s a book open on her bedspread and the pages slip back and forth like they’re pacing. It’s a little hypnotic, but Klaus tears his eyes away to focus on his sister. Klaus crouches down next to her, raising an arm in an outline of a hug, and she gratefully leans into him. He noticed that with her, Five, and Ben, touch was a tricky thing: they all spent an atrocious amount of time starved for physical comfort, but they were all also easily overwhelmed by it. He and the rest of his sibs decided the best way to approach it was to remind them, whether verbally or through gestures, that hugs were always welcome and let them decide if they wanted one.

Privately, the first four numbers had all acknowledged how _fucked_ it was that their younger sibs were so traumatized by touch that they needed to give a heads up, and it’s the first time that the words “dad fucking sucks” ever came out of Luther’s mouth. 

(Diego opened his mouth but Allison was the one to remind him that he’s part of the reason Vanya doesn’t trust hugs, anymore, so maybe _he_ ought to telegraph his movements around her especially.)

Back to the present, though. Vanya jerks her chin towards her violin case, as though the violin inside insulted her, and says, “I miss playing it.” Her voice is a cocktail of emotions: anger, sadness, regret. Notes of bitterness, for sure. A splash of nostalgia. Klaus forces himself out of the metaphor before he reawakens his cravings and focuses on Vanya. Right, emotions. He appreciates that she’s feeling them; it reminds him that she’s able to feel things without her medication, and that she’s growing to accept them. She's been numb for far too long.

It’s harder to feel jealous of her now that he knows what she was missing. At least Klaus had access to joy, amusement, with his own poisons of choice. At least he had a choice. 

“So why don’t you?” he asks.

“I just…I can’t look at it anymore. I hate _it_ , and I hate dad for basically pushing it onto me. But I love violins. I love playing.” 

And the money in Klaus’ pocket is burning a hole straight through it, and he’s barely even registering when he says, “Let’s get you a new one, then.” He shocks himself, really.

And the look on Vanya’s face convinces him it’s the right decision.

 

* * *

 

They go to a second hand music store. There aren’t a ton of options, but Vanya explains the pros and cons of each one. _Klaus_ suggests a brilliant purple one, but she tells him the paint might affect the sound. He tells her that sound can be compromised for the Aesthetic™ but she’s already moved on to the less gaudy and more boring ones, and Klaus trudges along with a heavy sigh. Fine, her aesthetic is Tastefully Bland, who’s he to judge?

She’s looking at each violin, chewing her lip, eyes flicking over each one like the words “pick ME, Vanya!” will be scratched into the wood before her eyes. Well, hey, she did let Klaus tag along, so maybe a ghost will take pity and try to do that soon. Vanya plucks a few strings on the necks, delicately hefts a couple onto her shoulder, gives the bows a careful inspection. Klaus offers his best supportive commentary, even if it mostly amounts to exaggerated nods in approval or looks of disgust to mirror her own understated expressions. He tried offering verbal support for the first one before realizing he knows next to nothing about music. 

“That one sounded pretty good!” he had said, only noticing the frown she gave the instrument after the words slipped out. 

“I don’t think it’s been tuned in years,” she pointed out, politely side-stepping the know-it-all attitude any of his other siblings would jump at, and Klaus bumps her up a few spots on the Klaus’ Sibling Ranking System. 

When she comes to the last one, though, Klaus knows she made her decision.

The violin is clearly old, like dad’s. Unlike their dad’s, however, this violin had chips, scuffs, and the varnish is faded. Their dad’s was kept in pristine condition, like an art piece. There was _meaning_ as to why he kept it, for sure, but it was only visible to him. Maybe his monocle had a virtual tour setting where anything his father sees has a file on hand. In any case, the violin was just another tool, albeit an old and reliable one. He had no qualms giving it to Vanya if it meant the greater good, but would resolutely refuse to acknowledge its significance lest he promote healthy family dynamics, or, _the absolute horror_ , a positive amount of nostalgia that wasn’t ultimately tied to a greater purpose. 

This violin is as grizzled and ruggedly handsome as a violin could get. This one speaks of a history, of being used to the point of being rough. Klaus narrates an entire yarn of it belonging to a lonely jazz player, who took to the violin every night in his desperate attempts to woo his childhood sweetheart and owner of the bar he plays at. He’s about to give it a bitter-sweet ending worthy of an Oscar before Vanya steals his breath away with a quiet song.

_Metaphorically_ , of course. He never had to specify that before he had his _literal_ breath taken away by a song by her before, but his life had always been just this side of weird. 

Then again, the air also seems to shimmer like there’s a barbecue on, but he assumes its safe, given the lack of gale-force winds. The haunting melody of it, though, that tears into his heart more effectively than Vanya ever could (again, metaphorically, he’s not trying to make it a challenge). She’s got her eyes closed in concentration, and Klaus’ own are tearing up. The song dips and croons one last time, and Vanya opens her eyes like she’s seen Heaven. She meets Klaus’ eyes, and it’s decided. 

This violin was clearly loved, and Vanya looks like she loves it too, and they don’t spend another second deliberating. The owner helps her tune it at the cash, because it’s a slow day, and the two of them haggle the price down just enough to buy a case with it. Klaus does his best to be convincing, but apparently drug dealers and musical instrument store owners have different standards for haggling. He’s cradling his wounded ego while Vanya steps in, making a more convincing argument about the quality. And the sight of _Vanya_ , even as politely as she is, telling a store owner that the price is too high for the product offered? _Priceless_. He’s saving it in the memory banks.

Still, Klaus’ money is entirely gone by the end of it, not even a quarter to buy a gum-ball or whatever kids these days are buying. But the beaming grin on Vanya’s face as she cradles her new instrument home sort of squashes any regrets he has. 

Later, their dad is pissed that Klaus used his own money to buy a thing for Vanya, but Vanya already hid her new violin in Allison’s room by this point. Their dad clearly wanted Vanya to use his old one, one more way to control her. So Klaus “accidentally” falls on it (and if anyone comments on how he turned tripping over his shoelaces into a full body slam, complete with elbow, he’ll deny it till he dies and resurrects again) and snaps the neck of the damned thing in two. 

As his mom is picking splinters out of his arm, stuck in bed without supper, he’s never been prouder of himself. 

(He’s also got some Twinkies stored in his closet — oh, and the jokes he used to have about that. And no matter what Five says about their expiration dates, they’re still fine after a while.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In ref to the "of choice" line: I think that Klaus is working through a lot of shit right now and is probs gonna get pretty introspective and emotional with Vanya's drug use, probably considering where they were similar and different.


	4. If The Spirit Moves You And The Music Soothes You, Let MCR Groove You And The Inter-Dimensional Horror In Your Chest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Klaus has a problem, Ben has a CD, and I have an idea that I won't stop advocating for (notably that Ben is an emo punk please hear me out on this)

But the satisfaction from destroying a simultaneously priceless and worthless violin can only sustain Klaus' attention for so long, and soon he's back to pacing.

Right now, Klaus was working up the nerve to just sit in his chair and finish his homework. He couldn’t think straight. The ghosts were feeling especially jazzed after they had a mission across the street from a hospital last week. A couple of ghosts decided to follow him home from the hospital, mostly from when he crashed into the emergency room and noticed too many victims of car crashes, gunshot wounds, and other awful ways to die. He also figured him walking away alive, albeit with a cut on his head and favouring one side, didn’t really endear them to his “I’ll just try to ignore y’all” plan. Thankfully, at least Ben wasn’t being forced to kill the perps anymore: Klaus and the others were trying to knock them unconscious before their dad gave the kill command over the comms. Not only did it help Klaus not see even more dead people who somehow blamed him for their deaths, it also helped Ben’s moral fibre and self-esteem.

Their dad hated this plan and was taking it out on Ben, of course. He initially sent him to the warehouse, forced him to exert his powers to the point where he was terrified of actually losing control and being torn apart. As soon as Ben told them this, though, the others were resolute in focusing on his hand-to-hand combat. Before, their dad saw no point to it; he got the basics, they all did, but much more emphasis was put on tentacle murder because “Number Six ought to use what made him extraordinary, otherwise he was no better than Seven.” But Klaus, Diego, Allison and Five taught him more, and Luther, who was getting on their side even at a snails pace, was very gradually convincing the old man that it was a necessary trade-off. Slowly, mind you, but if anyone could convince the stubborn prick they called “dad”, it was Luther. Alive criminals could testify to their crimes, and having a murderer on the group doesn’t get great press: shockingly, it takes awhile for the jackass who bought seven kids to grasp these concepts.

So, the compromise: Ben uses his powers to lift, destroy, or move objects, and uses his skills for knocking out assholes, and all seven of them try and brainstorm ways to get out of missions altogether. At this point, Five was focusing on the city’s laws on vigilanteism. 

Ben is a lot happier nowadays, even more so than Childhood the First. He’s started to show the quiet rebellious streak he had all those years ago that only Klaus was privy to. It started with being more vocal about his tastes in music and progressed to being more brazen in buying his own CDs and band merch. He used to be so afraid, especially with how Klaus' style and tastes got put through the ringer, that if he admitted to liking what he'd like he'd get somehow punished (with their dad, it wasn't too much of a stretch) and he kept all his interests locked down tight. But since the jump, he's been more willing to contradict their dad's vision, and everyone's (save Klaus, who knew Ben well enough, before and after his passing) idealised image of him as a quiet, sweet kid who didn't exist much beyond what their dad made of him, and then didn't exist much at all. And yeah, Ben is sweet, but his passing and his sibling's own problems kinda glossed over a lot of him. Vanya's book didn't help, unfortunately: now, the Hargreeves vision of Ben became essentially canon, at least to the undiscerning public. Many a time in this new timeline did Klaus have to take their siblings aside whenever they'd double take at Ben giving a sarcastic quip, or being up any of his interests beyond classic lit, to remind them that hey, maybe he knows himself better than you do. And they're adjusting to it, pretty quickly, and in some cases Ben helps them understand him. 

Right then, he was out with Diego on a new CD hunt, probably introducing ol’ Two to some new jams that he’d maybe acknowledge as he replayed to the same Queen album for the billionth time. Ben came to Klaus first, but Klaus had refused the offer. Not that he didn’t want to go for a walk around the mall with Ben, but he really didn’t feel up to passing his old haunts, not today. His brother, _thank the universe_ , understood, promising he’d let him know if he saw any cute outfits or pick up any CDs he’d think he’d like. 

In order to keep himself occupied, he decided to get a head-start (read: not start at the literal last half hour) on his homework. But the words on his chemistry assignment were starting to blur and he spent more time tapping his pencil than actually using it. So, he paces instead. It’s honestly more enriching, anyway, better for his health. He was just about to call the whole homework thing quits and maybe see how the rest of his siblings were holding up when he heard a pounding of footsteps on the stairs, down the landing, and eventually skidding to a stop right in front of his door. Ben threw it open right as Klaus was about to open it himself, a grin on his face, jewel case in hand.

“Check it out!” he’s saying excitedly, waving the CD a little too fast for Klaus to catch the title. 

“Oh my god, it’s a _blurry square!_ ” he exclaims. He reaches out to steady Ben’s wrist, seeing My Chemical Romance written in white along a splattering of purples and oranges, along with a title that’s too long to justify. “ _Gasp_! It’s your emo music!” 

Ben pulled back his wrist and rolled his eyes, but Klaus knew that Ben knew he was kidding.

"I've been waiting _so_ long to get this album again," he says. "Does it count as a whole lifetime if I was dead for a significant part of it?"

"I'll count it as morbidly enthusiastic," Klaus comments. Then, a little more seriously, "Are you feeling okay?"

"Oh, yeah, I'm good," Ben says. "I'm just a little nostalgic. This is one of my favourite albums." 

Klaus must not have looked convinced, because Ben frowns. 

"Seriously! Seriously, it's not a bad day, I've just missed this a little." Ben reaches out, and Klaus grips his hand automatically, giving a squeeze just in case it was a bad day. "Come on, listen with me?"

So, Ben and punk. It was (is? is.) an escape for him, like his books are. 

(Like drugs _were_ — _heavy emphasis on past tense_ , he reminds himself — for Klaus.)

Ben loved how the anger and sadness just bled out of it and jumpstarted something inside of him. And yes, Ben is the calmest out of all of them, and the sweetest, and the most level headed, and that’s mostly just his natural self. He’s always been the most pleasant to be around, the most likely to offer a hug after a gruelling training right along with Klaus. But there was undeniably an encouragement from his father to deal with his negative emotions quickly, quietly, and without fuss, because if he doesn’t then he “risks the well-being of your siblings, Number Six, do you want your brothers and sisters to die horrible, violent deaths at your hands because just you throw a tantrum and let yourself lose control?” 

Yeah, a really great thing to tell an eight-year-old after the super-dimensional being in his chest pushed his brother off the roof. Now, Klaus isn’t really sure _what_ the right answer is, because surprise he didn’t exactly have stellar role models for parents. And Klaus also didn’t _choose_ to parent seven super-beings, so he doesn’t _need_ to have an answer. But he knows that Ben feared himself just as much as he feared the monster, and he had a ton of unaddressed emotions. Oh, sure, he’ll nag Klaus into kingdom come if he so much as has a stomachache without telling the world, but Ben? Especially younger Ben, who didn’t understand his powers yet or have the perspective of a ghost who couldn’t harm his sibs? Oh, he’s _fine_ , of course he’s fine, nothing to see behind the curtain here, folks! A massive hypocrite if Klaus ever saw one. 

And punk, at it’s angriest and most vitriolic, was a great way for him to just _feel_ without fear. He could feel angry at a cruel world that decided he was going to be a danger to everyone he held near and dear, and no tentacle being would come from it. 

It wasn’t fair to himself, because Klaus feared Ben like he feared kittens or the teacups ride (not fucking much), but that’s how Ben grew up. He’s just surprised, after so much growing up, that he still turned to punk, even if he knew now that the Horror was more mental than emotional control. That yeah, if he’s really pissed or fearful or in agony, he’ll lose concentration, but he won’t release the Mega Squid because he’s a little peeved. And especially since Ben knew, now, that he _had_ control over it, that the being wasn’t going to be his ruin anymore. Maybe he just still liked the sound. Either way, Klaus supports him. He’s _valid_ , as the youths are calling it these days. 

Punk, though, it’s not really Klaus’ scene. It _is_ noise, and noise is welcome with open arms when it comes to his powers, but it’s very abrasive and angry. He prefers oldies, jazz, funk. Soul music is his favourite, and it’s the best at dispensing of pissed…well, _souls_ , funnily enough _._ But Ben gets really excited about it, and Ben has been trying really hard to find ways of distracting Klaus without the drugs. Klaus is aware he’s not doing it on purpose, because Ben doesn’t pull any punches when it comes to his drug problems. When you spend your afterlife watching your brother spiral into a drug and alcohol fuelled haze and end up punching the pills out his mouth, dancing around the issue kind of seems a little pointless. 

Or, says the little voice in his head that maybe sounds a little more rational, Ben is _just_ excited about his music and wants someone to listen with. Maybe Klaus doesn’t want to overthink every interaction with his brother and trust that his brother genuinely wanted to spend time with him, and wasn’t just watching over him because he’d fear he’d relapse. Maybe Ben just wants to remind himself that he’s alive and gets to enjoy his own things again. 

But as Ben drags him to his bedroom, delicately pulling the plastic from the jewel case, he realizes he doesn’t care. The familiarity of this, Ben showing him his new music, them dancing around and talking about how deep they thought the lyrics were, softens the new scenario they’ve found themselves in. It shaves off fifteen years, takes away Klaus’ harder drug addictions and Ben’s violent end and lonely afterlife. 

So they huddle around the small stereo, Ben practically vibrating with excitement as the CD whirrs around for a moment before the guitars and vocals kick in full volume -- both in terms of the stereo's actual volume and the band's anti-establishment gusto. Klaus nods along appreciatively, mostly looking at the back of the jewel case to look at the song titles, but the sight of Ben’s hand reaching out for the stereo interrupts him. He’s quiet as Ben touches the speaker, presumably feeling the vibrations the way that he used to. Klaus can see his brothers eyes grow a little brighter, and he reaches out to place a supportive hand between his shoulder blades. 

“I missed this,” Ben says, quietly, so quiet he’s almost overwhelmed by the screaming vocals. He rests his head against Klaus’ shoulder, smiling wistfully. Klaus readjusts his arm so he’s hugging his brother. “Remember that time you broke into your ex’s apartment to get our Danger Days CD back?” 

“Hell yeah,” Klaus grins. “‘Party Poison’ never sounded sweeter than when it played on his stolen stereo.”

“Definitely overkill, but I appreciated the gesture. Still do.” Ben wiped his eyes when the tears started to overflow. “I can’t believe you managed to not get arrested that time. You’re not exactly thief of the year.” 

“Oh, was it a competition? Was there an awards show? Why wasn’t I invited?”

“Again, you’re sloppy.”

“Didn’t get caught, though.”

“Please, it was a miracle that you remembered not to leave any prints.”

“The cops can never finger me if I burnt my prints off,” Klaus said ominously. Ben nudged him, grinning. 

Ben snorts. “You wore gloves.”

“Yeah, but which sounds cooler, Benny?”

“I’ll give you that and nothing else. Ooh, hang on, the riff is killer in this.” 

And they keep listening, cycling through the album. Klaus ad-libs every time he can’t quite make out the lyrics, and the two of them reminisce about the past; the times that were good, at least. 

Before they know it, Diego is knocking against the doorframe, and Klaus is so far down memory lane that he half-expects Ben to switch off the stereo like he used to, back when he was way more defensive of his tastes. But instead he just turns down the volume a little, looking quizzically at Diego.

“Wanna listen with us?” he offers.

“Maybe some other time,” Diego says. “But mom’s been ringing the dinner bell for the past three minutes and you haven’t heard it.” 

“ _Shit_ ,” Ben says, and he switches off the stereo for real this time. He and Klaus scramble up, their legs staticky from having knelt down for so long. The three of them booked it to the dinner table, just barely managing to beat their dad.

“Where were you two?” Five asks. There's not a speck of judgement in his tone, only curiousity; the old man is finally working on the whole "showing you care" thing he's always had. He does have an eyebrow raised as they stand behind their seats. For the sake of chaos, Klaus and Ben would switch from time to time. They got punished for it _once_ before the others joined in, and now the previously assignedd seating was dead and buried. Right now, Five was directly next to Ben at the foot of the table, where Vanya used to sit -- and moving ordinary Number Seven separated from her spot away from the others would always make their dad's eye twitch, so it was swell-worth it. They hoped to burn down all of their fathers rules and regulations for them soon enough.

“New-old album,” Ben answers, and he’s stopped from elaborating by their father entering the room. He clearly wanted to talk about it, but he does falter as their dad’s gaze sweeps over them. Klaus bumps his shoulder in solidarity. One dumb rule to break at a time, until their dad’s drill-sergeant attitude wasted away into nothing. Until either their dad got the memo that he couldn’t control them like he did the first time, or till Five found a way to take them all back to the future.

Till then, he satisfied himself with the knowledge that they _were_ finding ways to better live their lives. Especially Ben, who missed all the lovely experiences that life had to offer. Till then, he's humming the riffs of Bullets-era MCR, as Ben lovingly put it, right alongside him, heedless of their dad's glaring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I am self-aware enough to admit my titles are "too long to justify" but I have an aesthetic to maintain.

**Author's Note:**

> Please give me that sweet sweet validation and leave a comment!!


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